A Heart in Sun and Shadow (Cymru That Was Book 1) (3 page)

The twins dropped their packs and came to sit beside her where she indicated. Idrys sat up behind Seren, perching on a stone where he could pull the carved comb through her hair. She smelled of honey and tilled earth fresh after a rain.

She asked them questions then, about their family and their lives, listening to their stuttering replies with a tinge of amusement. Emyr did most of the talking, Idrys fascinated by the softness and beauty of the Fairy’s hair as it poured over his hands like blood stroke after stroke.

The shadows deepened and grew long. Emyr raised his head and looked about them.

“I beg your leave, Seren,” he said, for she’d insisted they call her by name. “But we’re going to be sorely missed if we don’t start home. We’ve already been gone a day too many.”

“Nonsense, my princes, it is near dark. You cannot travel in these woods by night; it would be most dangerous. Stay with me and we shall speak of this come sunrise.” She motioned and a small hut appeared on the other side of the pool where they were certain none had been before.

Rising, she walked around the water to the door. Idrys looked at his brother and shrugged. Neither wanted to anger the Fairy, so they followed.

The inside of the hut was far larger than its exterior suggested. Woolen tapestries in bright colors hung on the walls. They told the tale of a hunt, with a large red and white boar the centerpiece of each panel as it ran before a flood of hounds. The hunters depicted were all of the Folk, tall and graceful even in stitching.

A wide platform covered in the fur of many creatures was arranged against the back wall while a lush spill of sewn pillows and sheepskins surrounded a bronze firepit in the middle. Over the pit hung a large pot from which delicious smells emanated. The princes, having not eaten since their meager breakfast, salivated at the sight of the bubbling stew.

Seren laughed. “Sit, my guests, and make yourselves comfortable.” She picked up two copper bowls from a smooth wooden shelf near the door and dished up the soup.

The twins hesitated for a moment, the stories once again clouding their minds. Was it safe to eat the food the Fairy offered? Both decided with a shared look that angering Seren by refusing her hospitality would be far more dangerous and gave in to their empty bellies’ demands.

It was venison stew, full of fresh summer roots and herbs as well as tender savory meat. The twins ate their fill, marveling how the pot never seemed to empty despite the second and then third helpings. Seren reclined on the pillows, watching.

“I fear we’ve been rude, Seren,” Emyr said when he finally noticed she touched nothing of the meal herself.

“I do not gain my strength from mortal fodder,” Seren answered his unspoken question. “You are my guests. It is proper you should not hunger.”

“Thank you,” Idrys said, nudging his brother.

Emyr’s face remained clouded with thought, however.
Not from food, but from what? Where are we really? Oh, Idrys, what have we stumbled into now?
Emyr shivered again, though he tried to hide his fear and returned to eating. Seren missed the tremor and the dark look.

Idrys did not and watched his brother out of the corner of his eye, suddenly worried himself. Emyr always thought things through and he listened better than Idrys had ever been able to as well. Emyr noticed things and his instincts were usually good, though often Idrys paid them no heed in favor of action.

Seren rose and picked up a small bone jar from her shelf. She knelt then beside Idrys and opened the lid. The jar held an unguent of some sort, its pungent herbal smell not unpleasant, though strong.

“You two would be as alike as raindrops if not for this bruising,” she murmured. Idrys held still as she gently rubbed some of the ointment into his bruises and wounds. He braced himself for pain, pain that never manifested.

Her touch was warm and gentle, the pungent ointment seemed to coat his aches and they began to fade immediately. He heard Emyr gasp as Seren rose and stepped away.

“Still pretty?” Idrys said, trying to make a joke to wipe the astonishment off his brother’s face.

“Feel your face, Idrys,” Emyr said softly.

Idrys raised a hand to his face, touching his chin. Where there had been dark scabbing there was nothing now but slightly slippery unblemished skin. He felt above his eye then and his neck. The bruise was gone, as far as he could tell, and the oozing weal as well.

“Thank you, Lady,” he said in wonder to Seren. He too felt a chill now, for the Folk were not generally known to give a gift without a leash attached. He looked back to his brother and saw that same fear in his dark eyes.

Seren walked to the bed and sat gracefully at its edge. She beckoned to the young men. “Come, princes, let me show you how I am nourished. Let me sate your curiosity while you may perhaps sate me.” Her voice purred, the tones of her earlier song reflected in the inflection of her words. Her silver eyes smiled at them, heavy lids and long lashes lowering seductively.

The twins glanced at each other once more and silent thoughts flew between them in that gaze. Apprehensive, but also excited, they rose together, each feeling flushed and confused at the tumult of emotions. Then Seren’s slender arms opened to welcome them to her bed, and there was no more thinking.

The sun was already sailing high over the branches by the time the twins woke. They found themselves alone in the Fairy’s bed. Idrys rolled over and propped himself up on one arm to look at his brother. Emyr’s eyes opened and a small smile played across his generous mouth. The smile faded, however, as he recalled all of why they were there and not just the mysterious and beautiful events of the night before.

“It’s too bad they won’t ever believe this story,” Idrys said with a wistful sigh. “How many can claim that one of the Fair Folk made them men, eh?”

Emyr gave his brother a light push. “I don’t feel any more a man today than I did yesterday. Besides, father will be sick with worry.”

He rose from the bed, suddenly uncomfortable with his nakedness around his brother in a way that he’d never been before. He ruefully thought of his words a moment ago.
No, not like a man, but still, she’s changed us somehow.

“True.” Idrys yawned and stretched. “But ah, I think it worth it.”

Emyr threw him another amused look and found his tunic. Pulling it on he went to the door and reached to pull it open. The door didn’t budge. He put his full weight against it until he finally fell back into the sheepskins, his arms burning.

“Quit playing, brother.” Idrys rose and walked to the door. He set his weight against it and got the same result as his brother. They shared a look and then both tried, gripping the smooth wooden handle hand over hand.

The door stuck.

Both men sat down then, the sense of dread from the evening before returning full force. They were stuck in a fey home, trapped by a lady of the Folk. Emyr and Idrys looked at each other with apprehensive eyes.

“I think I like stories better when they stay stories,” Idrys said.

“No argument here. I tried to tell you we should leave that white buck well enough alone, didn’t I? But no, you just had to go running after every bleeding whim of yours, as usual.” Emyr’s words held more bite than he intended, fear turning what was meant as a gentle rebuke to something crueler.

To his surprise Idrys dropped his gaze and curled up with his arms around his knees, mouth pressed into an unhappy line.

Unaccustomed to this lack of fight from his twin, Emyr sat for a few minutes in silence, thinking. He took stock of the small cabin. There was a covered pail, much like the indoor privy buckets he was used to at home. At least their captor had provided for that need, though it cut off an excuse to leave the house.

He looked finally to the small window. The windows at home were usually shuttered or covered in leather scraped thin enough for light to come through. This one looked too smooth and clear for leather.

Rising, Emyr went to investigate it. The pane felt like stone under his fingers, warmed from the sun and very hard. He rapped on it with his knuckles just in case. The stone reverberated a little but otherwise didn’t budge. He dug with his nails around the edges, seeing if there was a way to dig free the pane. Emyr thought they might be able to squeeze out of the opening if he could remove the barrier.

“Emyr.” Idrys’s voice held a warning and none too soon.

Emyr stepped free of the wall near the window and turned to his brother just in time as the door swung open and Seren entered carrying a basket under one arm. She closed the door behind her and smiled at the twins.

“You’re awake, lovely. I’ve brought a present for my loves.” Her smile was brilliant and for a moment chased away the shadows of fear in their minds.

Idrys, still naked, and Emyr, in his dark brown tunic, both moved to take the basket from her. It was a beautiful basket, woven of dyed rushes in twisting knot-work patterns that evoked images of long-legged birds.

Having reached her first, Idrys removed the covering of fine linen and found to his delight the basket was laden with fresh berries and ripe pears. Forgetting his earlier melancholy, he turned to his brother and they sat down with the gift to break their fast.

“Thank you,” Emyr said and Idrys echoed him with a mouth stuffed with berries, the red and purple juice running down his chin.

Seren smiled benevolently down at them and then moved to sit on the skins beside them. Her fine-boned hands gently played with Idrys’s dark curls. She’d unbraided his hair the night before, remarking on how perfectly similar the twins were in visage.

They were so different in personality, however, she mused. Emyr had loved her with determined concentration, touching her as though she were fragile. His passion had come as reverence more than sexual desire.

Idrys was different. Once over his initial shyness, he’d explored her like a man hunting a rare creature. His touch was full of raw desire and an almost selfish need. He’d taken as much as he’d given, his long-lashed eyes wide with the wonderment of the act.

When the final moment of consummation had come, Emyr’s eyes had been closed.

Seren had taken mortal lovers before, but never twins of such exquisite youth and strength. She had little doubt she’d tire of them soon enough, though perhaps not soon as these humans measured time. For the moment, however, she intended to keep her new pets and teach them well how to please her.

The twins ate their fill and then looked at their captor.

“We need to go home, Seren. May we leave?” Emyr spoke, asking the question that hovered on the mind of both, hoping the answer would dissipate the fears that loomed once again.

She laughed, the sound like the burbling of the waterfall outside her house. “You’ll go home, of course! But it is nearly night now, too late to make a start of it this eve. Stay another night with me.” Her silver eyes grew hard and her gaze sharpened. “Unless, perhaps, you grow weary of my company so readily?”

“It is not that, Lady,” Idrys spoke up. “It is only we’ve been gone so long, we don’t wish to kill our father with worry.”

“Such lovely and dutiful sons he has.” Though she smiled so beautifully it made their hearts and loins ache, they were not oblivious to the mocking sting of her words.

She rose then with a gesture that forestalled any further queries and closed Emyr’s mouth before he could say aught. She removed her gown, letting it slide seductively down her hips as she undid the clasps and lacing. Her skin, luminescent and pale as moonlight, rekindled the twin’s desires.

At Clun Cadair, they’d both begun to play the adolescent games of discovery and courtship. The speculative whispers in their shared bed at night and the stolen and deliciously furtive kisses of Caron and Efa, the two girls closest to their age at home, were only explorations of a desire they hadn’t yet entirely manifested. Until Seren. She’d imparted a knowledge and a need that, once roused, was a fire nothing might quench.

Idrys rose first, naked and hungry for her flesh. He was accustomed to shrugging off doubts and consequences and used his experience to banish the nagging voice in his mind. One more night, what could that harm? His father’s fretting would be a tiny price to pay for such mysteries as the Lady might show them in the softly lit interior of her magic home.

Emyr watched his brother rise without hesitation and envy stole over him. Idrys was always so sure of himself, so able to act without the weight of doubt.
Or
, he thought bitterly,
without consideration.

He watched his brother’s tanned body entwine with the tall pale beauty of their host. The sight of them kissing in focused hunger shoved away the doubts in Emyr’s mind.
He’s right, maybe. Enjoying himself like this. We can’t change the situation immediately anyway. Perhaps she’ll let us free on the morrow.
He stood and pulled his tunic back off as desire burned away his fears.

Still, there in the back of his mind, hovering like an insect he couldn’t quite catch, lurked the tiny voice whispering that she’d never let them go.

Idrys woke first, lethargy and deep exhaustion pervading his limbs. He could scarce keep his eyes open long enough to register that the little cabin was sunlit. He felt his brother breathing next to him on the wide bed. Furs, damp with sweat from sleeping, matted against his skin, itching slightly.

The bed was soft and warm beneath him, his head pillowed on more furs, his brother’s soft dark hair brushing along his cheek with every breath. It was warm and comfortable and he could not resist the pull of sleep as it reclaimed him, though the nagging sense of apprehension followed him into his dreams.

Idrys dreamed of fire and the smell of burning leather and fur. Then smoke, thick enough to burn his eyes and sting his lungs. An owl, silent and pale, landed on the shifting stones beneath his bare feet. It turned its head halfway around and spoke to him in a chorus of voices.